


Hands and Hearts

by quietrook



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, holiday fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietrook/pseuds/quietrook
Summary: It snows unexpectedly at the Barns, so what else is left to do but sled?
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37
Collections: Pynch Secret Santa 2019





	Hands and Hearts

The snow had come out of nowhere. Weather at the Barns had a way of doing whatever the hell it wanted, generally ignoring the weather in the rest of the area, but the storm coming down from the mountain had permeated even this small, idyllic piece of land. At first it was a gentle drifting of snow that Adam and Ronan watched from their place on the couch, both dozing until it was time to go to Declan’s. The alarm on Adam’s phone woke them a couple of hours later, fifteen minutes before they needed to leave. 

Adam sat up, instantly alert, while Ronan let out a soft groan and stretched, blinking slowly into wakefulness and curling closer to Adam. 

“Ronan,” he murmured, resting his hand on the back of Ronan’s head to catch his attention. “Look.”

“Oh, shit,” Ronan said, but it was hard to tell if he was excited or disappointed until Adam saw that he wore that sharp grin he had fallen in love with. 

Adam disentangled himself from his boyfriend and went to watch the snow through the kitchen window. The sound of footsteps behind him let him know Ronan had followed him, and for a moment he stood still in front of the kitchen sink with Ronan’s arms around his waist and his cheek against his back. A feeling of peace settled over Adam as he twined his fingers with Ronan’s, leaning back into him.

There weren’t many objects of reference in the yard, the snow an even blanket across the ground, but it was already most of the way up the BMW’s tires. They - Adam, Ronan, and Opal - were meant to drive up to Declan’s later that day, but it looked like the winter storm had put a pin in that. The weather channel had predicted only a light dusting, but this was more than that. Far more. 

“We should go now, before it gets worse,” Adam said softly. He felt Ronan make a face.

“Driving north now is a shitty plan. We’re waiting.” 

“Declan is expecting us.” Adam’s tone was almost plaintive, and it earned him a disgusted scoff from Ronan.

“Fuck Declan.” There was quiet for a moment. Then: “It’ll be better if we go up tomorrow instead.”

Ronan, frankly, just didn’t want to go, and there was hardly a force on the planet that could make Ronan do something he really didn’t want to do, even if that force was Adam, and especially if it involved Declan. Adam took the unpleasant job of calling the eldest Lynch to inform him of the change of plans. Declan was none too pleased about it, but Adam was more than comfortable with him by now to just say a polite but solid, “Sorry, Declan. Talk to you later,” and hang up.

“So, what now?” he asked, looking to Ronan. 

“Now,” Ronan grinned, “we sled.”

-

Half an hour later, the three of them were bundled up and outside - even Opal, who had reluctantly let herself be bundled into a little coat with only a little bit of biting. She stomped around in her boots, which she claimed were better for not-sliding-around reasons when she really meant they just made stomping bigger and more satisfying. Ronan had drug out a couple of the old sleds he and his brothers had used growing up, things that had been beautifully dreamt and just as beautifully used. The wear and tear showed in dents, scratches, and just missing chunks of wood, somehow. The strings attached had long been gone.

Ronan grinned from ear to ear just looking at them, and turned to Adam.

“Hop on, Parrish.” 

Adam was not unfamiliar with sledding, as a concept, but his idea of sledding was setting up his own makeshift sled at the mouth of the trailer park, sliding down the slight incline at what was decidedly an extremely boring speed. This was something else entirely. This was a real sled, with wooden slats and metal feet and a frayed rope -- the kind advertised in store windows come November, the kind Adam had never had access too. He had always made do with trash can lids and stolen lunch trays.

A strange giddiness flooded through him as he carefully settled himself down behind Ronan, the rustling of their coats filling his ears as he wrapped his arms securely around Ronan’s middle. He saw the cold-rosiness of Ronan’s cheeks as he turned to ask with a grin, “Ready?”  
Adam nodded and tightened his grip, gasping as Ronan tossed his weight forward and the sled started down the hill, slowly at first and gathering speed until the wind was rushing past, stinging their cheeks and gathering tears at the corner of their eyes. 

The hill flattened out at the bottom and they coasted to a stop. There was hardly a moment for Adam to catch his breath, leaning his face against Ronan’s back before a wave of snow crashed over them. Clearing the snow from his eyes was a difficult task through the wool of his gloves, but the sight he saw was worth it, bringing a smile to his face. Opal was a pile of snow just ahead of them, a path behind her showing where she’d slid to a stop and sprayed them with blinding white slush. Beside him, he heard Ronan swearing and sputtering, then: “Opal, where the fuck is your other boot? You’re gonna lose your damn foot.”

Opal, who had thrown herself down the hill after them, shrieking with joy as she tumbled wildly behind them, shrugged and sprang to her feet. She kicked off the remaining boot and ran back up the hill, giggling as she ran and ignoring Ronan’s shouts about her boots in favor of rolling back down through the snow, bursts of it flying into the air behind her. Laughing, Adam picked himself back up and started to drag the sled up the incline. At the top of the hill, he stopped and turned around. Ronan stood at the bottom of the hill, looking out across the fields.

“Fuck,” he swore distantly.

“What’s up?” Adam called down, leaning against the upright sled.

“The cows.” 

Ronan had covered the sleeping bovines with dreamt quilts the week before, doing what little he could to prepare them for the chill of winter. This much snow had been completely unexpected; he hadn’t been able to set enough time to move them into one of the vacant barns. His stomach twisted as he thought of them out in the field, probably buried entirely by now. Shit. He didn’t know if they could die, but he wasn’t willing to test that theory with suffocation and hypothermia.

“The cows?”

“We have to go dig them out.”

-

Despite the fact that the snow had slowed to a gently drifting flurry, it was a chore trudging across the fields. Adam stepped gingerly, sinking halfway up his calf with each footfall. Opal had opted for the easier path, clambering gleefully onto Ronan's shoulders, tugging the collar of his jacket this way and that as she gave him directions that he completely ignored.

"Kerah's a bad horse," she grumbled, leaping down as soon as they stopped by the first cow mound. It was a good thing that Opal was tall for a dreamt child, or she would have immediately sunk too deep into the snow to move.

"Yeah, he doesn't listen very well," Adam agreed, turning a little grin towards her and Ronan.

"Fuck off," Ronan replied, but there wasn’t much behind it. The corners of his mouth quirked into a small smile. 

They stood there for a moment, watching Ronan surveying the field of snowy mounds before he heaved a sigh. Adam silently handed Ronan one of the shovels they’d picked up on their way down to the pasture. He grimly accepted it and got to work, Opal bouncing and wading t hrough the waist-deep snow to help, scooping up snow in her hands and tossing it over her shoulders, Adam going in with his own shovel.

It didn’t take long for Opal to grow bored of their game, wandering off and beginning a snow sculpture halfway back towards the house. Ronan and Adam on the other hand, spent nearly the rest of the daylight hours scooping snow out from on and around the cows. At first there was a tense anxiety to the task, neither of them sure what they’d find under the snow, but it had quickly become clear that the cows were fine. 

With the sun hanging low over the hills and the orange light of the sky to guide them, Adam and Ronan trudged back to the house, stomachs growling and hands numb and clenched around shovels. They set them down on the porch and stomped on the wood, trying to get the snow off of their boots. Eventually, Adam just kicked his off, leaving them to sit by the door; Ronan just walked inside, boots and all. 

The door closed behind them, the house enveloping them in warmth, but Adam paused to strip his damp gloves off and vigorously rub his hands together, breathing warm air and life back into them. Adam didn’t see Ronan step closer, so it was a pleasant surprise when not even a second later, Ronan’s hands covered Adam’s and he pressed kisses to the tips of his icy fingers.

Adam laughed softly, “This would be more romantic if your face wasn’t as cold as my hands.”

“Shut up, it’s the thought that counts,” Ronan retorted, and kissed Adam with his frozen lips. Pulling back with only a little reluctance, he asked, “Want some hot chocolate?”

“Yes,” Opal’s voice startled both of them. They stepped apart to see her staring up at them with impossibly huge eyes. It seemed she’d even forgotten to make her usual scene of disgust at their display of affection, distracted by the idea of hot chocolate. Ronan laughed and held a hand out to her. 

“Come on, then. Let’s get us warmed up.”

After spending a few minutes digging the family tea kettle out of a cabinet, Ronan filled it with water and set it on the stove. There was a full box of packaged hot chocolate in the pantry, and he grabbed three packets and the bag of mini rainbow marshmallows. Ronan stood in front of the stove as it heated, staring at the kettle without really seeing it, thinking about how long it had been since he had used it. How long it had been since anyone had made hot chocolate in the house after a day of playing in the snow. 

Not since before Niall had died and everything had gone to shit.

“Ronan,” Adam said softly. He’d come into the kitchen to help, instead finding Ronan stuck in front of the kettle with a tear rolling down his cheek. He brushed his fingers against his arm on his way to slipping his hand into Ronan’s. He didn’t respond, only clung to Adam’s hand and closed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing. Adam made a soft noise of sympathy, pulling Ronan in against his chest, his other hand going to cradle the back of his head.

They stood like that, curled together, until the kettle began to scream and Opal came bounding in, chanting hot chocolate over and over until she started jumbling up the letters, breaking off into giggles every time she said something like choc hotlate. Ronan separated himself from Adam, Opal’s antics bringing a quiet smile to his face. He pulled the kettle off the stove, its weight familiar and comforting now, as Adam took three mugs down from the cabinet for him to fill. 

Powder, dumped. Boiling water, poured. One spoon each stirred it all together before marshmallows and whipped cream topped everything off. Almost immediately, Opal had the can in her hand and they had to wrestle it back before she started spraying it everywhere. Ronan put it back in the fridge, pushing it to the back of the top shelf where she couldn’t reach it; she pouted until Adam distracted her by placing her mug of hot chocolate between her hands. She grinned and carried it carefully to the kitchen table, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. Ronan and Adam joined her a moment later, the three of them warming their hands on the mugs.

Across the table, Ronan caught Adam’s eye and smiled. Things were different now and always would be, but they were still good, and sometimes that was enough.


End file.
